


You've opened the door now (Don't let it close)

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: All I Need [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow is King in the North, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: With the harvest feast coming up, there's one thing Jon Snow is dreading more than anything. As King in the North, he'll be expected to open the feast... with a dance.Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, Sansa has offered to teach him...Written for Day 21 of 31 Days of Jonsa - Doing a "typical couple thing" together: It's a loose interpretation of the prompt, but I thought it was fitting, since Jon and Sansa are starting to act more and more coupley in this universe...Title from Within Temptation's 'All I need'





	You've opened the door now (Don't let it close)

Sansa opened her eyes, gently leaning into Jon's familiar warm body behind her. Simply feeling him this close was of such great comfort to her, but she knew he'd probably move away the moment he woke up, so she'd have to enjoy it while it lasted.

After the night of Jon's return Sansa had considered going back to sleeping in her own bed. After all, she'd been forced to do so for a fortnight, she could manage. The next morning, Jon had even asked how she'd been sleeping. The first nights had been terrible, but to her surprise, on the fourth morning she'd woken up after a full night of uneventful sleep.

"That's- good," he'd commented. "Perhaps..." He'd only shaken his head, but she'd understood what he'd been trying to say. They'd crossed a line the night before, and they both knew it, even if they'd never address it. It would be better if they changed their sleeping arrangements now and pretended none of it had ever happened.

Yet that same night, her feet had carried her to Jon's chambers. He'd answered on the first knock, stepping aside to let her in, and they hadn't spent one night apart since.

She turned around to look at his face. It was one of her favourite things to do in the morning, studying the curve of his lips and the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks. 

She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and run a finger over the crease between his eyebrows.

Jon mumbled and stirred, peering at her through one open eye. "What are you doing?"

She smiled. "I'm watching you sleep."

"Must be dull," he grunted, eyes closed again.

"Not exactly," she countered. "You have a fascinating face."

He forced his eyes halfway open. "Are you mocking me?"

"No!" she laughed.

He grabbed her by the waist to tickle her, and she pushed against him, shrieking. He held her closer, to keep her from escaping, and she let herself go limp in his arms. He loosened his grip, and she took advantage of it to retaliate.

He cried out in surprise, pinning her to his body to limit her arms' reach, but in the process, she accidentally landed on top of him. They were both giggling and trying to catch their breaths, when their noses bumped together and Jon's gaze dropped to her lips.

Suddenly the silence in the room was tangible. She averted her eyes, and he released her, clearing his throat. She pushed herself off him, rolling away from him to return to her own chambers.

Unfortunately she couldn't truly escape him. This morning was the last chance they'd have to practice the dance for the harvest feast.

Jon had sulked and cursed, coming up with a thousand excuses. "You're the Lady of Winterfell, you should do it," he'd said half a hundred times.

"The lords aren't bringing their daughters and nieces to dance with me, Jon," she'd pointed out.

He'd given her a dark look. "Yet another reason why I shouldn't do it." He'd insisted that he didn't know how to dance, which she knew to be a lie, because she remembered teaching him.

"I'm horribly out of practice," he'd grumbled. "We didn't have that many opportunities to dance at the Wall."

She'd told him she would help him practise, and eventually he had given in. She wasn't exactly sure how she'd done it, but she felt satisfied about her victory nonetheless.

***

The start of their final lesson this morning was stiff and awkward, but as dancing was second nature to Sansa, and she'd done it under much less pleasant circumstances, after a couple of attempts they smoothly fell into their routine again.

Still she was so conscious about the way he held her hand and the feel of his other hand on her shoulderblade. The dance they were practising was a dance of seduction, bringing the partners close, but barely having them touch each other.

More than once she had to avert her eyes. It was infuriating and it filled her with shame. She shouldn't feel this way about her brother.

He missed a step.

"You're still thinking too much," she said.

"How am I supposed to count the steps if I can't think?" he muttered back.

She bit her lip. "The problem is you're overthinking it!"

He missed another step, and released her. "That's enough practice for today."

"You're distracted."

He clenched his fists. "Aye."

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to reach for his hand.

He pulled it away, masking the motion by reaching up to rub his temple. "I didn't sleep well, is all."

***

It hadn't been a complete lie, Jon tried to tell himself as he stormed out of Sansa's chambers. He  _had_ slept well, like he always did when he had her close, but the dreams were only getting worse.

Being away from her, missing her, realizing how much he'd come to depend on her had only inflamed his vile passions. Before, he might have been able to deny the true nature of his feelings for her,  he might have blamed his need on her being the last of his family, but not anymore. 

The night of his return had become a blur in his memory. He still remembered all that had happened, but he was sure his sick mind had warped the true events of that evening to fit his unnatural desires.

He'd run through it again and again, the images, sounds and smells so vivid, and still it felt as if it might have been a dream. Replaying the memory almost made it seem as if Sansa had been trying to seduce him,  but that couldn't be true.

Despite everything she'd been through, in many ways, she was still so innocent. And even if she was capable of doing such a thing, why would she want to? It was folly to even consider the possibility that she might return his feelings, leaving him none the wiser as to her intentions.

 _No,_ he must have imagined any of her actions being intentional. He was her brother, couldn't he be content with her finally fully accepting him as such? Was his mind so intent on making her as disgusting as he was for the sake of its own indulgence?

***

All the daughters of the North were lined up at the entrance of the Great Hall, dressed up in all their finery and their hair styled in braids lying around their heads like crowns. In truth there were only about a dozen, but Jon's throat clenched at the sight of them eagerly eyeing him, smiling brightly and some even leaning forward, one so far she must be in danger of falling over.

Some of the girls looked sweet enough, a couple of them were even quite pretty, but that didn't seem to help him in any way. His palms were sweaty and his mouth had gone dry. All he wanted to do was turn around and run. How absurd was it that a man who'd faced the Night King and had returned from the dead would fly into a panic at the prospect of sharing a dance with a girl?

And then he saw Sansa standing at the far edge of the group, waiting for a partner and a place in the line. His feet made his decision for him. The dress she was wearing was blue, airier than the ones he was used to seeing her in. He offered her his hand and she took it, but not before arching an eyebrow.

He led her to the other end of the floor, where they stood facing each other until the other ladies had found partners. "Coward," she mouthed.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she only offered him a sweet smile, and then the music started. He bowed and she curtsied and they both took a step forward. He held out his right hand, palm close to hers but not touching, as they started walking around each other in a slow circle.

 _Eight paces,_ he told himself, but truly, this was only the simple part. He looked up as they switched hands, meeting her eyes, and he wished he hadn't. He was unable to look away and she held his gaze the entire time, only dropping hers when they were standing back in their original places.

He held up both of his hands for the final turn, during which they both seemed to try to avoid looking each other in the eyes. The circling reminded him of a wolf stalking its prey, and to his dismay he wasn't sure who was which in this case. Dancing with her in the Great Hall surrounded by all these people, music and soft candlelight filling the room wasn't the same as dancing with her in the privacy of their own chambers.

For the third time, they had returned to their place in the lines and as they awaited the note heralding the next part of the dance, he found he couldn't keep his eyes off her, the air between them alive and tingling.

Finally they both took the last step to close the distance between them. Finally he was touching her and it was hard to resist the urge to pull her much closer than would have been proper. Though he hadn't had a drink yet tonight, the pleasant buzz in his head felt similar to the one he usually had after having several cups of ale.

The rest of the dance passed in a blur. He let her lead and it went surprisingly well, with her guiding him. The last note of the song came too soon, and he wished he had an excuse to hold onto her.

***

Sansa smiled as she glanced around the hall, surprised that she was actually enjoying herself. She allowed herself to indulge in the food, especially the sweets. Honey cakes weren't the same as lemon cakes, but they tasted fine enough.

She had a little too much of the hippocras Jon had saved for her, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to care tonight. And when Ethan Forrester approached the dais and asked for a dance, she even accepted his offer.

He was kind and courteous, even if he was clearly deep into his cups, and his hand was warm on her back. She managed to suppress the part of her that wanted to cringe away from his touch. She knew there was nothing to be worried about. 

Even when his hand drifted a little lower than would have been strictly appropriate, she managed to smile bravely. She was safe here. Nothing was going to happen to her.

She twirled around and her eyes met Jon's murderous glare. She watched him drain his cup of ale and push himself to his feet, and then he disappeared from her line of sight.

He materialized right next to her, a hand on her elbow and his eyes on Forrester's face. "Excuse me, my lord, I'd like to have a word with my sister." His words were polite enough, but his tone was not.

Judging by the look on Forrester's face, he had most certainly noticed as well. "Of course, Your Grace."

The hand on her elbow started guiding her to the doors and she followed along. She could have struggled, but she didn't wish to make a scene in front of all these people. 

Jon led her to an alcove in some side corridor, and finally he released her. His face was pulled into a deep frown. "Are you alright?" 

She shook her head in disbelief. "Really, Jon? That's all you have to say after that- that spectacle in there?"

He grunted unintelligibly.

"I was having a good time! Why did you have to do that?"

"You seemed uncomfortable," he muttered.

Her nostrils flared. "I can handle it!"

"But you don't have to, that's the point," he fumed, jabbing his hand emphatically. "I'm here for you!"

She threw her arms up in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop protecting me?"

"At least once more!"

"Seven hells!" she exclaimed, fists tightly clenched by her sides. "Why must you be so insufferable!"

"I could ask the same of you!"

He was so close, right in her face, but she wasn't scared, no, she was...  _aroused._

She licks her lips and Jon's darkened eyes follow the movement, he leans in, and then he's kissing her.

She almost chokes on her gasp of surprise, but his hand is cupping her cheek, and her own hands fly up, one sliding into his hair and the other pulling him closer, and she's kissing him back.

He groans and smiles against her lips, his free hand curling around her waist. He sucks and nibbles on her bottom lip, and it's nothing like she would have expected, but it's wonderful.

They parted, panting breaths mingling, and he nuzzled his face into her temple. She could feel his body starting to tense up.

She felt him trying to pull away, so she reached for his wrist, grabbing it tightly,  and whispered: "No, stay."

She knew there would be ghosts in his eyes she didn't want to see, but at least he didn't walk away. He nodded, and he stayed. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a dance scene for these two for ages. Not that I haven't done it before, come to think of it, but... NO - let me rephrase that, I've wanted to write THIS DANCE SCENE for them for ages and I'm squealing in delight that I've finally done it! If anyone recognizes the dance, let me know :D (I hope I did alright describing it...)


End file.
